Snags and Snarls

Have I mentioned that I don’t do well when things get rescheduled? It’s true. Much as I would love to be one of those free spirits who can easily go with the flow, when I have everything seamlessly scheduled and there is a bump in the road, I don’t take it kindly.

Take tonight, for example.

Winnie was to have her Depo Medrol injections tonight, at 6:15 p.m. I just got a call from the vet’s office, wanting to reschedule. At the sound of the panic in my voice, they were quick to set me up with an appointment first thing tomorrow morning, but I feel so badly for Winnie. Last night on our walk, when she was having troubles with her hind end and her foot was dragging with nearly every step, I hugged her and told her she was a very good and special girl for hanging in there, and I promised her that she would have her injections in time for her next walk. After last night, she wouldn’t need to spend long intervals at the top of the stairs, trying to decide just how badly she needed to go outside. Poor Winnie. One more night.

(But still, she will get her injections before the trip. It's okay.)

And take tomorrow night as another example.

Last week when I talked to Casey, he told me he thought we could meet up around 6:00 tomorrow night so I could pick up the RV. When I called him this afternoon to confirm the time, Casey said that tomorrow night around 7:30 would be better for him. Argh. So much for me being able to get everything all packed up and then sit back and relax and watch a movie with Harry Friday night! I was also hoping Casey would have time to go through all the operating instructions with me in the daylight. It should still be somewhat light, and I’m pretty good at figuring things out, so I'm sure it will be okay, but I really didn't want to be driving the RV home in the dark.

(But still, I'm still getting the RV earlier than was originally scheduled, which was Saturday morning. It's okay.)

I’ll admit to feeling a bit snarly right now, just the same.

It will get better, I’m sure. I just need to adjust.

(Close your eyes, Lisa. Straighten your back, square your shoulders. Take a deep breath ... and another deep breath).

And adjusting is one thing at which I excel!

Down to the Wire

Only two days until departure! I’m pretty well set to go. Tonight I packed my clothes, made cinnamon rolls and red beans & rice for Harry, and gathered a collection of traveling music of my own.

Tomorrow’s schedule is a bit more hectic. I have to pick up Tim’s prescriptions, canned food from SitStay.com and do my grocery shopping. Winnie has her appointment with Dr. Eddings at 6:15 tomorrow night. I’m so glad she was able to stick it out until tomorrow - the steroid injections should make her much more comfortable during the trip. Not that she’s going to be suffering, mind you. The way I’m imagining things, she’ll be comfortably ensconced on the air bed the whole way, lounging about in comfort, looking out the window as the scenery goes by. I’ll bring lots of her dog beds, too, just in case she’s more comfy on the floor, but I’m betting she’ll end up on the air bed. My little Princess. (Grin)

And then we come to Friday. The night I pick up the RV. The way I have everything laid out, it should take me no longer than an hour or so to pack the RV, and then I’ll be able to relax and watch a movie with Harry before turning in for the night. It will be interesting to look at this entry after the fact and see how it all turns out - best laid plans and all.

A wonderful thing happened to me today! First, you should know, in all the time I’ve worked for the Boss Man, I’ve never been gone two whole weeks. Harry can’t leave the shop for that long (which is part of why I’m taking this trip on my own, after all). So, suffice it to say that the Boss Man has been a bit stressed out. It’s not like we don’t have excellent personnel who fill in when someone’s gone - no, that’s not it at all. They just aren’t me. I know all the Boss Man’s quirks, where he left things, how to find what he’s lost, and I’m one of the few people in the Firm who can read his handwriting (I think of it as “job security"). He’s getting ready to go on a little four-day weekend trip of his own, something he does fairly frequently with three or four other couples. He called me into his office, told me about a couple of things he wanted me to do for him, and then handed me a check, saying, “Here. I won’t be here when you leave, so I wanted to give you something to take with you. Have fun and be safe.” I was struck dumb (speechless, if you want to be nice). I looked at him, my mouth gaping open and closed like a fish out of water, and he said, “I know. I’m ‘da man.”

What a great guy. I hope he has as much fun on his trip as I’m going to have on mine!

Five Days Left - and the Farmer Feet Start Kickin’

If you look at the title of my blog and read the explanation for the name, you’ll understand what’s happening today without even reading the rest of this entry.

This morning I woke up with a full-blown case of second thoughts.

It’s the Farmer Feet, you know. And I expected it. Actually, in truth, I expected it long before now. The Farmer Feet rest quietly while the Gypsy Heart yammers on about traveling, seeing the sights, flying free and soaring high. Then, when they think the Gypsy Heart has gone far enough, they dig in.

I have a vivid image in my mind of a dirt road with two deep ruts, made by the heels of my Farmer Feet being dragged along by my Gypsy Heart.

On the walk with the dogs this morning, whispered thoughts fluttered through my traitorous brain.

“You could just bring the RV home and park it in the driveway.”

“You could do a little tour of Nebraska, instead.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to just stay home and sleep in? Maybe work on a new patio or make something new in the garage instead of going so far away?”

I recognize those whispers for what they are. My Farmer Feet. That part of me that never wants to leave the house, that could be happy planted out in the garden, surrounded by critters, for the rest of my life.

Of course I’m not canceling the trip. The Farmer Feet are just going to have to buck up and deal with it. They’ve had their time in the sun, lounging about in the pool, never going further than that day trip to Ogallala or camping in the Black Hills over a long weekend. They’ve spent hours and hours in the garage, and enjoyed miles of hikes at local reservoirs with the dogs.

It’s the Gypsy Heart’s turn and the Farmer Feet will just have to go along for the ride.

This weekend I put the final touches on packing. I’m using those wonderful “green” grocers’ bags to organize things - one for maps and directions, one for trash and one to collect the things I’m going to be needing in the cab of the RV. The tool box is put together and ready. The camping box is ready. I have a button to sew on some pants and a seam to repair on a pair of shorts, and then I can start packing clothing. I still haven’t gotten my water frozen, so that’s top on my list for tonight (I can sew while watching “Castle,” don’t you know).

I talked to Casey last week, and he confirmed that I could pick the RV up on Friday night instead of Saturday morning. That will make things much easier - I’ll be able to load the RV on Friday night and sleep in on Saturday morning, have a leisurely breakfast with Harry and then take off.

“Right. Like you’re going to sleep at all on Friday night!”

Now I just have to figure out some way to gag a pair of feet.

And the Countdown Begins - 12 Days

Oddly enough, the past few weeks have passed without me doing much for the trip. It was only just this past weekend that I was able to shoulder the yoke and get the ball rolling again. Some of that has to do with inertia; some of it has to do with Springtime and everything else that clamors for attention - the lawn needs mowed, shrubs, veggie plants and a tree needed planted - that kind of thing. But time is ticking, and the countdown has begun! Twelve days until this Dog and Ponytail show is on the road!

As I sorted through the Camping Box, I noticed that lots of the stuff that we use for tent camping is just not necessary for RV camping - and, conversely, there are things a person might use when cooking in a microwave that wouldn’t necessarily hold up well over an open flame. (My plastic Tupperware plates, for example). Mom somehow fit an entire set of aluminum pots and pans along with a cast iron skillet into the Camping Box. I’m not going to take those out - who knows if I might want to fry up some onions one evening. (I love caramelized onions. Mmmm.....) But cast iron and aluminum aren’t exactly microwave-safe. I could take some of my stoneware bowls, but since they’re breakable and so heavy (never mind that cast iron skillet), I decided what I needed was Corelle. You know, that very light, hard plastic dinnerware that is nearly unbreakable and works well in the microwave.

I don’t want to sink a lot of capital into this RV trip. When I get my Airstream or Rockwood trailer, then I’ll consider truly stocking it, but for this trip, it's off to the thrift stores. At the very first Goodwill store, I found two Corelle bowls in one pattern, and three bowls in another. Gosh - I didn’t know I was going to have to choose an RV pattern! I chose the set of three; the ones with the blue and green bands around the lip. As I was carrying them out to the car, where the dogs patiently waited, I realized that these bowls were just the right size for my favorite breakfast (oatmeal with peanut butter and chocolate chips) or my favorite lunch (yogurt with nuts), but they would be a little small for what I had planned for dinners. I’d have to extend my search and look for a serving bowl or some such thing.

The dogs greeted me as if I’d been gone for a day and a half, not the fifteen minutes I’d actually been on the hunt. I’d parked next door to the Goodwill, in the parking lot of a business that was closed on Saturdays. When I reached for the doorhandle, all three dogs jockeyed for the best position to greet me: Winnie snaked her head around the back of the driver’s seat, Tim jumped up from snoozing in the passenger seat, and Star stood on the console, hunched over like a vulture. I took my sunglasses off and put the bowls down, and all three dogs enthusiastically licked my face. As I wiped my face and put my sunglasses back on, I noticed a car parked a couple spaces away. Two women were in it, watching me and grinning from ear to ear. Fellow dog lovers! I laughed and waved, and they did too, and then, with the smile still on my face (along with a little bit of dog slobber, I imagine) the dogs and I were on our way again.

I finally found what I was looking for two thrift stores later. No luck finding a serving bowl, but on the off-chance I might find a liquid measure, I cruised the kitchen gadget aisle, and discovered a brand-new Tupperware microwave cooker. I’m sure you’ve seen them - the ugly, tan, hard plastic kind that has a lid that also serves as a dish. Each piece was marked $1.99, but when I got to the register, the clerk decided since it was obviously a set, she’d charge me $1.99 for both pieces. Not bad - three bowls for .79 each and a microwave cooker for $1.99. I think I can afford that.

So, now I’m set to pack up the Camping Box. Now that I’ve taken things like the battery powered lantern, the aluminum coffeepot, the single burner propane stove and its propane canister out of the Camping Box, there’s much more room in there, and I think I’ll utilize that room by packing my dry goods into it. As far as I know, the RV I’ve rented has no rodent problem, but after my visit to the used Airstream, I’m much more aware that such problems may exist; and if I keep all my dry goods, like my oatmeal, peanut butter, rice and such in the Camping Box, I won’t have anything to worry about.

Thanks, Mom!

The Camping Box

I guess some things are nearly packed. (Pre-packed? Packed in preparation for packing?) I am referring to the Kitchen Stuff. All the Kitchen Stuff is ready because Mom’s Camping Box is going along. Dad built the Camping Box for Mom in their early years together. Gosh, that would make it over 40 years old now. Tightly packed inside that gray plywood box, with its rope handles and hinged door (approximately knee-high, a foot and a half deep and two and a half feet wide), is every kitchen utensil any person could possibly ever need to cook with while camping, including all the dishes, silverware, pots and pans, dishwashing stuff, hot mitts - and oh, yeah, don’t forget the compass, the deck of playing cards and the snakebite kit. It was, and still is, a marvel to me, how the two of them put the Camping Box together. Sure, it's kind of heavy and takes up a bit of space, but I’ll figure out how to fit it in. And nothing will rattle, either. There’s nothing like the fragrance that rushes out when you open the Camping Box - a combination of Dial soap, pepper, matches and Brillo pads. Just opening it takes me back to my childhood. This is what it looks like inside now - but it isn't ready for the trip quite yet. I'll post another picture when it's all organized and ready.



Now that I think about it, it’s quite possible that I may have inherited my Gypsy Heart from my Dad. I think he built the Camping Box and The Gray Box (which was much bigger and was lashed to the roof of the station wagon) specifically for the Cross-Country Camping Trip. We started out in North Carolina and drove across the entire United States, ending up in California, where we visited my Aunt and Uncle. I believe my brother was ten years old at the time, which would make me about six years old and my sister, Pam, just a toddler. I have a renewed appreciation for the patience of my parents - I cannot even imagine taking a long-distance road trip like that with three small children. We tent-camped the entire way, too.

I have a child’s memories of that trip, some of which are still as vivid as a color photograph etched in my mind. No memories of the scenery, particularly, nor of special places we visited - no, what I remember are things like the tiny bandanna halters Mom made for my sister and I. I thought Mom was a magician when made them: she folded two bandannas in half diagonally and tied them in knots. One knot was placed in the center of my scrawny little chest, another under the tangle of curls at the nape of my neck, and the third in the middle of my back. It was magic, pure and simple. Three simple knots and I felt like a movie star.

I remember the hand puppets my parents had hoped would keep us occupied on the road, and Dad pulling over and yanking me out of the car to paddle my behind right there on the side of the road, when the puppets didn’t work. I guess I always was a bit of a troublemaker.

Dad wasn't happy when I opted out of going to see the Anasazi ruins at Mesa Verde,either. The way I saw it, why would I want to traipse around out there looking at a bunch of old rocks when there were toys at the ranger station to play with? He finally relented and my sister and I stayed behind while my Big Brother went with my parents. To me, Mesa Verde was the place where the water froze in the collapsible canvas Army bucket, and the rain froze on the tent fly. Mom and Dad hadn't been prepared for weather like that - they had to buy us each a sweatshirt so we could keep warm.

Oh, yes. Every time I open the Camping Box, memories come flooding back. And the Camping Box definitely has to go with me. It’s what my road trip camping memories are made of!

The Airstream Dream

Last weekend, I went to look at an old Airstream that’s been languishing on a local travel trailer dealer’s lot. To my mind's eye, it was an overlooked gem - I could see such potential when I peeked through the windows. The reality was much different. My first clue should have been the amused smile the salesman gave me when I asked about the Airstream. The second clue probably should have been when he just handed me the key. "You just go take a look at it," he said, with a grin. "We don’t own it - we’re trying to sell it for someone else."

My heart beat a little faster as I approached the only slightly dented aluminum twinkie. I fitted the key into the lock, and when I turned it, the door popped open slightly, as if to invite me inside. I stepped up, and took a serious look at my first used Airstream.

The first thing I noticed were the half-empty boxes of D-Con on the floor. I squared my shoulders and prepared for the worst as I headed to the back of the trailer, to the bathroom. Figured I might as well start at one end and go all the way through.

I really have no idea of the age of this particular trailer, although I suspect it is a 1972, from the photos I've found. Airstream has a reputation for good construction, for being "the best of the best." I suppose at some point in time plastic would have been the wave of the future and the "best of the best." Everything was plastic. All of the trimwork (some of which was detached and laying on the floor); the tambour doors of the cupboards (which, of course, would not open). Even the slightly warped drawers that almost opened when I tugged really hard on them were plastic. The plastic faux-wood grain on the front of the fridge was bowed out of shape from years of exposure to heat and cold. I held my breath and opened the fridge - it was amazingly clean, as was the freezer. The stove, however, was a mess. No wonder the mice had moved in.

Even my expansive imagination couldn’t wrap its comforting arms all the way around this project.

Maybe once I have my major travel trips out of the way, I could consider buying an Airstream in this kind of shape and refurbishing it. You know, as a hobby or something. But until then, I think I’m going to look at an alternative - a Rockwood Mini-Lite 1809S. I was going to post a photo of it here, but you'll just have to Google it. This little beauty costs a fraction of what the Airstream Flying Cloud I’d been lusting over costs, and I wouldn’t have to buy a heavy-duty truck to haul it, either.

Win/win.

Anticipation vs. Impatience

Okay, I’ve come to the conclusion that I started planning this trip way too early. I now have 23 days left until my departure, and there’s nothing left to do but wait. I haven’t really packed anything, and I really can’t do much serious packing until I have the RV in the driveway. I do have a box in the dining room that I have been tossing things into as I think of them, to be consolidated for travel when the time comes.

This has left me with plenty of time to contemplate the difference between anticipating the trip and being impatient for departure, which took all of two minutes. Anticipation and impatience are the same thing - just ask Webster. In the future, I hereby resolve to plan trips a month or two ahead, tops. (Yeah, right - like I haven’t already planned trips to the Texas coast, the Minnesota Boundary Waters and the East Coast).

Not much has been happening as far as trip preparations go. I have all my final destinations all laid out. I bought "chilly neckerchiefs" and a "chilly pad" for the dogs, to keep them cool while we travel through the desert areas, and for hikes, too - you know, just in case. I’ve tried a couple of the non-refrigerated all-natural Indian entrees I plan to take for dinners. I’ve paid the rental for the RV.

In the meantime, I’ve also caught a head cold. I don’t, however, plan to take that with me.